Text and Images by Ivoryhut
Okay, I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again.
I’m a dork.
After some initial hesitation, I went to the Beacon Theater last week with my son, Tim, who, along with Shrew, convinced me to brave the flooded streets in my area and head into the city on a Friday night. (Neither has yet to pull out the “I told you so” card on me. But I know it’s coming.) I’m so glad I did because there really is nothing like watching Taylor Hicks live, in his element, with a crowd feeding him more and more energy, making him boogie harder, spin faster, and growl louder. And he didn’t even have to wear khaki pants.
Our pre-concert activities included putting some food in our bellies for the anticipated long evening. Gray, sorry Tim took your papaya. It was so good that he had more after the show. (I opted for a falafel a few corners down, so I was not party to any tropical fruit theft.)
We were back at the Beacon a bit early for the concert. If it were just me, I’d sit in my seat like the nerd that I am and quietly wait for the concert to start. Tim wanted to walk around, so we did. Of course, I had mentioned that Gray Charles would be there, and after I repeated a description of him, my loyal 6’2″ lookout offered to scan the lobby for possible suspects. I didn’t have much to go on. We, on the other hand, were a different story. Tim was laughing when I told him I said we’d stick out because I look too young to be his mom, too old to be his schoolmate, and too ethnically-dissimilar to be his sibling.
When there is a mass of people around me, my eyes tend to glaze over in an attempt to stave off stranger anxiety. So I wasn’t much help trying to scan faces. But just as I was about to suggest giving up, I spotted someone who fit Shelley’s description talking to about five women who seemed to be hanging on his every word. Hmmm. Interestink.
Captain Dork (Tim) was waiting for a lull in their conversation to tap the person on the shoulder and ask, “Excuse me, uhm … do you blog? I mean, you have a blog? Or did you used to have a blog? Are you named after a color and a prince?” (Yeah, we were standing there long enough to come up with all these lame intro lines.) Then, all of a sudden, a woman marches right to the group and talks to him. When her face comes into view, I think to myself, “Hey, I know that face from one of Shelley’s posts.” Before I can say anything, my son yells to me, “I spot Monkbot! I spot Monkbot!”
And there, about 10 feet from me, was Gray Charles with his back to us and TM’s antenna sticking up from behind his shoulder.
And so, while I didn’t get to meet Gray Charles, I did get to meet Jan and finally lay my eyes on the actual Traveling Monkbot. (Shelley, I think TM’s been kissed one too many times. His lips are frayed.) Woohoo for dorkdom!
Tim, Traveling Monkbot, and Ivoryhut
Inside the theater, Toby Lightman was great. I like her voice, has some Norah Jones in it. (You can especially hear it in her song “My Sweet Song.”) She sang a number of original tunes from her album “Bird On A Wire,” then headed over to the lobby to meet any fans and sign CDs. She’s a petite lady, but don’t let the size fool you — she’s got a big, raspy voice and can sound 6 feet tall strumming that guitar. She’s quite funny and down-to-earth, too. In her online journal, she writes:
“Last night we had a killer show at the Borgata in Atlantic City. I only had 30 minutes to play, but the band killed it. We then proceeded to have way too much fun after the show to celebrate. We all went to the “Gypsy Bar” in the casino where they had this amazing cover band, i think. and i don’t like cover bands….
The next morning, this morning, i woke up and realized that the “Gypsy Bar” was not my friend after all. All i wanted was coffee, sleep and later on, maybe a little chick-fil-a.“
Haha.
Okay, on to the main attraction of the show. I’m not the best person to do a concert write-up, and I’m sure there will be other much better reviews and recaps available. Suffice it to say that from the moment Taylor walked out on the stage, people were on their feet and stayed there for the duration of the show. Taylor never stopped moving, and boy, that man can dance. His vocals were incredible, and when he went really low to tag “Let’s Get It On,” the Beacon Theater was electrified. Almost as much as when he did his chicken dance.
Hicks’ on-stage energy can’t be captured with the mere snap of a camera.
The entire band was amazing. Brian Gallagher blew Tim away with his sax playing, and for the most part, he just kept repeating, “Wow” and “That was awesome” during and after every number. I had hoped to hear more of Brian Less doing keyboard riffs, but I was still happy to watch him play. The harmonica came out for the last number, and dang, the boy can blow! He said it was the best crowd he’s had on tour, and I guess a big part of that comes from letting the audience dance and scream and not have to sit still on their seats. I couldn’t understand how other venues could try and stifle the boogie. I mean, it’s a concert, people. Not poetry reading.
Taylor seemed pretty winded by the time the show ended, but everyone inside was still psyched and high on the music as they filed past the doors. I asked Tim what impressed him the most, and he said it was hard to decide between the sax player, the keyboardist, or the harmonica. But he agreed that it was one of the tightest bands he’s ever heard, and that every member could have been the star performer of their own band.I overheard a young man say to his female companion, “Wow, I didn’t expect it to be that good!,” and she enthusiastically agreed.
I wanted to chime in, “Yeah! It’s ALL good.” I wanted to ask them if there was anything that surprised them. Or which song they liked the most. I wanted to ask if they were already fans of Taylor before.
But I didn’t. Because, well, I’m a dork.
monkbot talk 